


What Comes Around

by libbertyjibbit



Series: TMA October Prompt Fills [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Captivity, Chains, Collars, Drinking, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26771740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libbertyjibbit/pseuds/libbertyjibbit
Summary: Evan's greatest fear has always been being told to break someone the way he was broken. That fear has now become reality.
Series: TMA October Prompt Fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949629
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	What Comes Around

**Author's Note:**

> For day 2 of Whumptober - Kidnapped, Collars

"Why can't Peter do it?" Evan asks.

He's sprawled across the sofa, working his way towards drunk with the same single minded intensity he used to apply to freeing himself from the family. That one didn't work out so well but the drinking's easier. No one's trying to stop him, for one thing. If anything, they help him along; without Peter here to keep him in hand the drinks cabinet can serve as babysitter, and being drunk makes him more inclined to isolate himself, not less. Best for everyone, really.

Grandfather purses his lips and doesn't answer his question. Of course he doesn't; whatever reasons he has for insisting that Evan be the one to break in the newest in the long line of sacrifices to their god, they're not for anyone else to know. Perhaps it was Peter's suggestion, Evan thinks with a sour twist of his mouth. Peter was always the favorite; the one that Grandfather turned to when he needed things done. Oh, there was Peter’s mother, too, but she wasn't a Lukas by blood, and deep down Grandfather still believed that only blood could truly be one of them. Yes, this is probably some scheme of Peter's, some test to determine whether Evan is backsliding. That sounds like a Peter sort of thing to do. Peter always understood Evan better than the rest of them; it's why he always found him so easy to break. Surely he knows that Evan has always been afraid of this, and would find it amusing to see what happens.

_I don't want to_. The words are on his tongue, heavier than the alcohol, but he can't say them. He knows what would happen if he did: Grandfather's eyes would go colder than ever, so cold that Evan would be able to feel his displeasure like a physical weight. He would say nothing, but sometime later Evan would wake in a cold room, naked and chained, left alone until he was half-mad. And then at some point he would hear Peter's tread outside his door.

Evan brings the glass to his lips, washing down protests and fear alike with the burn of the alcohol. Grandfather's eyes narrow as he watches, but he doesn't say a word.

Evan rises and sets the glass down on the table with a little more force than necessary. "All right," he says, even though it doesn't have to be said. Of course he is going to do it; of course he never had a choice. "Where is he?"

"Your old room," Grandfather says, and Evan only barely manages to suppress the shudder.

***

Evan is taken aback when he sees the man curled on the floor. It isn't his state of undress that surprises him, nor the collar around his throat. No, the surprise is in how old he is - as a rule, his family tends to take them in young. The young are more malleable, more easily warped to feed the Lonely as well as be fed upon. But the man on the floor is older than that, possibly Evan's own age, or close enough to it not to matter. The second thing that surprises him are the bruises.

Bruises are often a staple on the children they take. Beaten, neglected children whose belief that they are nothing shines like a beacon in the dark, guiding any who might wish to look straight to them. And the Lukas family is always looking.

But those bruises are nothing like these. Evan can read these like the pages of an erotic novel, each dark smudge another mark of ownership, of possession. Finger marks around his wrists, love bites visible even above the collar. Pretty painted patterns along his thighs, a mix of red and purple. Someone clearly wants this man, who sleeps so easily in the cold of the room. Some faceless someone has put their mark all over him in an attempt to claim him as their own. If his family took him anyway he must be something special.

The man shifts, muttering something under his breath. He tries to wrap his arms around himself, but of course the chains won't let him. He frowns then, brows drawing together. His eyes flutter open, fixing on Evan almost immediately, and Evan nearly staggers back at the weight of the Loneliness in his gaze.

The man frowns harder, staring at him. "Who are you?" he asks, voice high and wavering. "Where's Peter?"

Evan remembers his Grandfather's pursed lips, his obvious agitation and distaste, the way he'd pointedly not answered only question, and suddenly it clicks.

Evan looks into the man’s confused, wary eyes and begins to laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please let me know. :)


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